


I think you're lovely

by e1even



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4657935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e1even/pseuds/e1even
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ridiculously domestic morning.</p><p>((As of August 27, this fic has been partially rewritten due to my own contempt. Thank you for the positive feedback! It’s been a hard week.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	I think you're lovely

**Author's Note:**

> Ha, I’ve managed to write my way into writer’s block since I’m 80% nerves since I gotta move again in a week and a bit. Have a short pwp I wrote while listening to Twenty One Pilot’s album, ‘Regional At Best.” Hopefully I will find my way over this wall. It’s not particularly in character or my best, but I hope you enjoy it.

“You know, you’re very possessive, Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi’s grumbling, flicking his nose, a little too tired, and Oikawa’s enraptured by the way Iwaizumi failed to function in the mornings after they slept in the same bed. 

(Even if they didn’t have sex, made him wonder how little of a morning person Iwaizumi was.)

“You always cover my pretty skin with such dark bruises.”

He pouted, bringing a hand to gingerly motion to his collarbones, trying to get a response out of the much more groggy Iwaizumi. Oikawa wanted to laugh at the situation, eating breakfast with hardly any clothes in an empty house since they accidentally woke up at 6am. How casual it was. How natural this all was.

How well they fit together, when Iwaizumi’s between his legs and Oikawa’s half terrified half amazed at how much he likes the feeling of Iwaizumi’s lips and teeth and tongue against his neck, and they’re both in too deep to just stop.

“Y’claw down my back.”

A half answer’s coming out, and Iwaizumi’s yawning, trying to blink away the haze, and though Oikawa really should be tired with all the times he woke up, yet that doesn’t bother him. How cute Iwaizumi was being was bothering him so much more, only in a pair of boxers.

“Hajime, sleep well?”

Oikawa asks, and Iwaizumi’s eyes lock onto his own at the first name. The intimacy of this moment was always present, in Oikawa’s opinion, but maybe Iwaizumi did this anyways? The half naked eating toast leaning against a counter while someone else was doing the same, looking at clouds through a small window.

Iwa-chan looked good like this, and the more Oikawa looked, the more he should look away. Or, maybe not, they were dating, his mouth was going dry looking at the way the sun looked on the shifting muscles of his torso, thick arms. His hair was as wild as always, and Oikawa was probably a bit of a mess.

(He could seriously imagine the bags underneath his eyes. Wondered if Iwaizumi noticed.)

“You don’t shut up, do you?”

Iwaizumi finally responds, getting himself more water, and Oikawa isn’t sure the last time he had so few thoughts running through his head, ends up laughing just because this was all absurd.

He was actually satisfied with himself.

“You should know that by now.”

Iwa-chan grunts in response, and the next few moments pass in a comfortable silence, and Oikawa would’ve sworn before there’s no such thing but he really believed now, he had to. The morning never felt like it was real anyways.

He steps behind Iwaizumi, wraps his arms around his waist, rests his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He was muscular, sure, but Oikawa truly did have a height advantage. Cute. Oikawa momentarily wonders if he should bring up how short Iwaizumi is compared to the team, or the third years, tease him a little.

Iwaizumi sharply elbows him in the rib first.

“What was that for?”

Oikawa says while Iwaizumi turns around, easily pushes him against the wall, and Oikawa’s a little too conscious of the cool plaster on his back and Iwaizumi’s lips on his own in the flurry of actions.

“You were about to say something shitty.”

Iwaizumi says, flatly, eyes looking knowingly at Oikawa, and he’s grinning, because somehow, this was it.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

His voice is sing-song, Oikawa’s not even trying, and he’s pulling Iwaizumi by the arm back to the hallway, back upstairs. They still had one more whole day alone, and he’d make the absolute most of it.

It was honestly difficult for Oikawa, getting into this relationship they’ve both been centred around for too long. He was the captain, couldn’t afford any weakness.

Any vulnerability, or susceptibility to something like this, to someone.

(It would be their second round. He wanted it, wanted so much more than just a day alone. Shameful, he’d give into himself like this.)

Iwaizumi’s moving of his own volition, once ha catches on, and soon they’re back on Iwaizumi’s bed, the covers still left half hanging off and half splayed on the floor, Iwaizumi’s rough fingertips tracing some abstract designs on his body. It was too comfortable to have his arms on Iwa-chan’s shoulders and his, frankly plain sheets around him.

His eyes are closed, and when he looks up, Iwaizumi’s smiling at him, gently, Oikawa realizing he’s smiling a little too, and everything snaps right back into focus once he feels Iwaizumi’s warm palm gliding up over his side, thumb brushing over a pert nipple.

Oikawa hated, maybe loved how much Iwaizumi realized he liked having his chest played with, he took his time, ever since, now leaning down to taste the little gasps Oikawa couldn’t help but make.

He couldn’t control himself, and that should make him so much more uncomfortable and so much less turned on but it doesn’t matter, when they’re coming together.

They were both observant, and there was something electric when they had such a feel for eachother, to use it like this, when Oikawa’s trying to grind against Iwaizumi’s thigh between his legs, when he can feel Iwaizumi’s hardness against his own, and they’re not kissing anymore even if Iwaizumi’s still toying with his sensitive chest, Iwaizumi’s breath over his pulse.

There was something so good and so bad and so wanton about giving in, made him shiver, hands clench, whimper because he was being derailed by all these thoughts and the hot, heavy feeling of them together.

Oikawa feels his mouth drop open in a moan when Iwaizumi begin to suck at a place right on the side of his neck, high up.

(He almost wanted Iwaizumi to stop, everyone would be able to see that, absolutely everyone and the idea filled him with some dread and some gross, smug, amazing excitement.)

Iwaizumi takes his time, and the wet feeling of Iwaizumi’s tongue and the stinging pain makes Oikawa feel desperate in a way he doesn’t like to admit.

He moves to nip at another part of Oikawa’s neck, and Oikawa whines a little in pain, prompting Iwaizumi to gently kiss that spot, where Oikawa’s sporting some dark, purpling bruise from the night before.

Oikawa’s always wondered if Iwaizumi was really possessive, in a subtle way, if this was his way of leaving his claim. He tried not to wonder why he liked it, walking around knowing Iwa-chan left the marks all over his skin.

They’re parting now, and Oikawa doesn’t admit he whimpers when Iwaizumi’s hands leave his chest to plant themselves by his hips, doesn’t want to admit to himself he’s still desperately grinding down onto Iwaizumi’s leg, relishing the friction through his briefs.

Just this, even just this is so good. Too good. He was acting like some inexperienced preteen, getting set off by the smallest of touches and Iwa-chan’s touching him again, and his mind goes blank.

He’s sitting further back and moving and all he can do is recline, look at the sun streaking through the room and hear the shrill call of the cicadas begin to drift in, draw his attention to the birds and the day before Iwaizumi’s hand is gently holding, lifting up one of his legs.

Iwaizumi presses a kiss to Oikawa’s still-injured knee, and he feels his ears burn. Iwaizumi was treating him like he’s something delicate and fragile and priceless and no one else would try to treat him like this, not when he was the pillar for the team. Some support beam. Something strong and tireless and letting Iwaizumi take over, letting himself just stop trying so much was amazing.

(He shouldn’t, though. He wasn’t something worthy or delicate or breakable. He was nothing.)

The way Iwaizumi was sliding off his underwear, taking off his own was a little clumsy, but Oikawa still was watching intently as the beautiful dips and curves of Iwaizumi’s hips was revealed to him.

It makes him wonder what he did to deserve this.

Iwa-chan was gorgeous, and he’s soon back on Oikawa, one hand under his waist, and the other dipping between his legs, stroking Oikawa’s cock twice, thumb careful to give extra attention to the head, the sensitive underside and Iwaizumi’s taking his time. He’s careful, maybe a little weirdly careful at this time in the morning, spending a lot of time before dipping into his entrance.

The slow intrusion makes Oikawa’s eyes roll back into his skull, makes him make some mewling sound because it’s oddly slick and Oikawa squirms when he realizes why, it’s from last night, and Iwaizumi’s taking advantage of that, of how relaxed Oikawa is, a second finger entering almost immediately.

It’s a bit much, it burns, he’s just not slick enough and the drag of fingers against him makes him shudder, and he’s trying to say so but Iwaizumi’s pecking him on the lips, as if in apology, and the next time the fingers are pulled out, it’s completely. He closes his eyes, then shudders, the fingers are cold next time, very slick, and Iwaizumi pushes them all the way in, draws a moan out of Oikawa’s throat because it’s a little too soon, but Iwaizumi’s finally, finally treating him a little less like some porcelain doll, in time with his own desire.

It’s humiliating, that he likes this so much, like everything Iwaizumi does to him so much. Mostly that he could feel so good from being touched there, in particular, that it could make him feel just this good.

This really, really isn’t anything he should be doing, letting himself enjoy.

It’s so wrong, gross, but the wet feeling, the shame makes him cry out as much as the feeling of the fingers moving so subtly inside him. 

It’s warmer soon, and he’s not exactly sure why he’s rocking his hips back when Iwaizumi curls his fingers, he knows, knew, doesn’t care, and he’s just whimpering, feels himself twitching at the feelings inside, the slight discomfort that made everything better because it was pushing at something in just the right way.

Oikawa’s breath hisses, hitches when Iwaizumi slides in another finger, feels himself involuntary clench and Iwaizumi’s fingers just keep sliding in, and it feels different. The discomfort and pleasure both grow with that, and it feels like the fingers are holding him open, sliding in and out so easily, curling in and making him cry out. It was good, but it was also horrible, unbearable and it made heat rush to his stomach and made him want to curl up a little, ball up his hands into fists.

It’s humiliating, how he’s reacting, when Iwaizumi’s on top of him. 

(It’s gross. He’s too wet. He’s still disgusting from letting Iwaizumi come inside last night, and it was mortifying, terrifying, arousing to let Iwaizumi keep fucking him when he’s already loose and wet inside. Sloppy seconds.)

They don’t say anything, they don’t need to.

Oikawa lets himself lay back, and Iwaizumi’s moving forwards. He hears his own pants and Iwaizumi’s ragged breaths and the cicadas and the sheet rustling and the birds and his own heartbeat in his ear and he was far too into this.

Iwaizumi enters slowly, and Oikawa’s quick to move his hands into Iwaizumi’s thick, wild hair while he feels himself spasm a little, adjust while Iwaizumi’s hand is curling, like he’s trying to hold on for a minute.

Iwaizumi’s so hot, so thick inside him, and Oikawa can feel himself shaking a little, knows Iwaizumi at least used a condom this time, but the knowledge is almost lost in how there’s the little edge of pain making him writhe and gasp, and it’s good, it’s bad, he’s trying to stand it.

It isn’t long, he bucks up to try and show he’s good, he’s ready, and the voice in the back of his head is going on about how he’s taking it so easily, he’s gross for how much he likes this, is losing himself to his body, to Iwaizumi having fucked him open last night, made him all loose, disgusting.

Iwaizumi’s quick to move, and they’re always perfectly in sync until Oikawa loses his grip, and it’s fast. The pace is faster than Oikawa expected, and Iwaizumi’s hands on his hips. Each time he thrusts, some gross, wet sound is made and Oikawa’s face is turning red, it’s humiliating, but it makes his toes curl, somehow made everything feel better. Iwaizumi’s fingers dig in, hard, wrench his lower body a little off the bed and the angle makes Oikawa cry out.

He can get so, so much deeper like this.

Iwaizumi keeps him like that, when he’s deep inside and Oikawa’s shuddering from the feeling, being held open, he could really feel the wet, disgusting mess absolutely dripping out of him. Oikawa cries out when Iwaizumi grinds his hips up, and against, the depth, the friction, all grating at his self control. Something is ever so slightly brushing against his prostate, and it’s good, it’s fantastic.

He bets if he looked down at Iwa-chan, Oikawa knew he’d probably end up sobbing, from the feelings, from the fact Iwaizumi’s doing this with him, from the fact he likes this, having someone else take control, having someone else see him so weak.

(He’s too easy, so easy. Disgusting how easy he’s falling apart.)

One hand drops from his hips, but the one holding him up in tandem with Iwaizumi’s hips is enough, the other is moving forwards, Oikawa’s eyes shut when Iwaizumi finally starts to thrust in again, a slow, shallow, brutal pace where the depth, the discomfort, the harsh friction are all so much better, he can hardly notice his own scream when Iwaizumi’s teeth graze over his chest.

Soon, Iwaizumi’s sucking at it, and Oikawa’s trying to arch up his back, allow for better access. Eventually Iwaizumi’s other hand shifts up as well, and Oikawa’s legs are splayed open while Iwaizumi continues to fuck him, hard, deep.

His pace slows down even more, and Iwaizumi’s hands are on his sides, and Oikawa’s having issues registering where things are, it’s a little too intense and it’s terrifying and he’s sobbing out a moan when Iwaizumi’s fingers find his nipples, play with them roughly, and Iwaizumi’s still leaning down over them and he felt so hot, so sweaty, so gross and good between his legs.

Iwaizumi’s kissing his neck, and Oikawa’s never felt this frail.

He’s overloaded, full of Iwaizumi, feeling the cum and lube drip out of his hole with every progressively harder, messier thrust, the little jolts of pleasure from Iwaizumi playing with his far too sensitive nipples again, fingers now wet, harshly pulling and pinching at them, Iwaizumi licking and sucking at a spot right underneath his jaw, and everything’s a little too wet and warm and ever so slightly painful, it’s too much.

Oikawa’s coming before he can even think about warning Iwaizumi, and he’s whining, rocking his hips as his body’s rocked by little spasms, and Iwa-chan’s coming too, the gross, warm feeling only intensifying how good, how horribly overwhelmed he felt.

He comes back to himself, first. Out of breath, head spinning, and Iwaizumi’s pulling out, tying the condom and binning it, lying down. Oikawa lets his eyes flutter close, enjoy the warm feeling he always ends up with in the aftermath.

They were both sticky, covered in sweat, and his hips, his whole body ached.

They still had a lot of time to just exist like this.

 


End file.
